


If I killed someone for you

by indecisivemess



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Unus Annus - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Annus - Freeform, Beta Read!, Blood, Halluciations, Just let me know if I should add any tags, Murder, Not Humans, They are actual entities, Trying to give trigger warnings without spoilers is tough yall, Unus - Freeform, anxiety all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indecisivemess/pseuds/indecisivemess
Summary: "When had the hallucinations started?When had their characters become real?It was just a couple of men in suits. People did theories about what they meant or what they could represent, but like the rest of the channel, Unus and Annus had been a product of a loose moment of brainstorming, a single grain of sand in a desert of thoughts. It wasn’t meaningless – nothing they put their effort into really was – but it didn’t have a meaning. Their only purpose had been to look a bit more fancy, throw their fans a bit off guard when that first video slapped them across the face; bring them back when least expected.So why did he see himself, a dark, twisted version of his worst nightmares, lurking in every shadow, following his every move?"
Relationships: Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	If I killed someone for you

**Author's Note:**

> Pls for the love of god read the tags, my friend got hallucinations cuz i accidentally forgot to mention that one trigger. Proceed with caution <3
> 
> Also yes, this is based off of that song from Alec Benjamin of the same name. It is sorta important to go hear it cuz i had the idea for this while hearing it, but you dont really have to.

Ethan was sure he had been teleported into a horror movie. Or into the set of an awful prank. There weren’t any cameras anywhere, not that he could see, but everything was too blurry around the edges to be sure.

In the middle of his frantic panic, his brain barely processed the flickering light over his head, the bad omen that had been haunting him for weeks and he had been too lazy to change. Now, as his hands grew cold, the warmth from the blood that stained them red rapidly dissipating, that barely seemed to matter.

He didn’t dare- rather, couldn’t- look away from the trembling that blurred his vision, that made it hard to focus. In any other occasion, he was sure he’d cry, fat easy tears rolling down his cheeks, that he could use to wash away the guilt and the insanity gradually tainting his soul.

His eyes never felt so dry.

It was probably from the lack of blinking, the shock keeping his eyelids pinned in place, as if his mind was gluing his sight to the horrible mistake Ethan Nestor had just committed, engraving it into his memories.

A breath forced his way into his lungs, like a gasp for air after breaking the surface of the water, and the shaking that rattled his bones intensified, to the point it was a challenge to keep standing. He could finally move, finally curl his hands into fists to hide away the evidence of his sin, and the motion reflected accordingly in the mirror in front of him.

His reflection on the bloodied glass showed him the face of a killer.

As his eyes checked his surroundings, that stupid useless spark of hope quickly morphed into toxic delusion; red splashed against the white tiles of his bathroom, drops of it decorating every inch that hadn’t been painted by hand.

Only when the vomit burned his throat, the acid dissolving the rest of his senses, did Ethan realize that his heart was pounding, faster than it had even done before, making his ears ring until it all crumpled into barely perceptible static.

His eyes returned to the dirty mirror, looking for something they hadn’t told Ethan, and around the outline of his frail human body, weakened by many sleepless nights, visible distortions played tricks on him, darkened the corners of his vision as static filled his mind.

For once, he wished it was rhetorical. He had never been smart enough, talented enough, to come up with descriptions that his English teacher would be proud of, but he guessed his hallucinations made it easier for him to present something gruesomely poetic.

He wasn’t mistaken.

For a split second, the lightbulb died out, merging the space around him into liquid darkness, and from it, a white, ghostly hand grabbed at his throat. It squeezed tight enough that light flashed in front of him, forcing him to see the outlines of a skull mask imprinted onto his face and making him hyperaware of everything happening in the mirror in front of him, like a last lifeline back to sanity.

The light returned as he went to punch the disgusting image of his reflection.

His muscles came to life then, tensing and stopping him from hurting himself further, but that didn’t avoid the sound of cracking glass from echoing inside his mind. Ethan could still feel the gelid fingers wrapped around his neck, cutting off his air. Before he noticed, his own had come up to rub at the sore skin, feeling the purple numbness that the grab had left behind.

He had completely forgotten about the blood.

This was supposed to be a fun little challenge. A whole year, uploading every day. Get out of your comfort zone and break through your boundaries.

When had the hallucinations started?

When had their characters become real?

It was just a couple of men in suits. People did theories about what they meant or what they could represent, but like the rest of the channel, Unus and Annus had been a product of a loose moment of brainstorming, a single grain of sand in a desert of thoughts. It wasn’t meaningless – nothing they put their effort into really was – but it didn’t have a meaning. Their only purpose had been to look a bit more fancy, throw their fans a bit off guard when that first video slapped them across the face; bring them back when least expected.

So why did he see himself, a dark, twisted version of his worst nightmares, lurking in every shadow, following his every move?

Ethan had thought it was only his anxiety getting to him, a fact that mixed very poorly with too much caffeine pumping in his veins and going for 3 days straight to keep schedules balanced.

Unus had watched him from the hallway that led to his recording room the whole night.

At first, the youtuber thought it was a shadow, his tired eyes burned by the lights coming from the multiple monitors playing tricks on him, but once he rubbed them, he was still there, maybe even standing closer now, as if he was made of darkness and was slowly emerging from his home to haunt him.

He wasn’t sure how he had managed the thought skills to grab his phone and shine a light into the corridor, simply presented with the sight he always saw once he wrapped up for the night; no Unus in sight. Ethan took it as a good opportunity to go to sleep, dragging his tired body uselessly to his room while ignoring the sudden cold draped over his house, the whole time being unable to relax. Like the shadows attempted to come closer if he didn’t glare them into submission, like someone was staring at him from beyond his line of sight, ready to strike at any second.

The next day, he mumbled about it to Mark, joking about how the channel was destroying his mental health in favor of admitting the strange happenings of just a few hours ago. His friend had only laughed, cell phone static crinkling the edges of his mockery, before he promptly dismissed it. He still had offered to take some of his work toll so he could catch a few hours of sleep, perhaps a bit regretful of laughing at such a sensitive topic. Ethan had refused, despite his exhausted mind yelling at him to take the offer.

Mark.

The simple memory of him made his hands shake again.

Unus had wanted to go after Mark.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. The blood spread across every visible inch of his bathroom seemed to sizzle and dissipate into the thin air as Ethan freaked out, desperation fueling his burning lungs as he ran across the house, tripped down the stairs.

In his crazed state, he somehow remembered about the phone in his back pocket, screen flashing to life once he clicked on the button to turn it on, and before thinking much of it, pressed it against his heated face as he sprinted out of his house, quickly slipping inside of his car.

Mark didn’t pick up.

Which was a normal circumstance. The world could be going to shit and Mark would only pick up on his third try, with luck, but right now, that fact only solidified in Ethan’s mind that Unus had got to him first, despite his best efforts.

His car’s engine roared to life, cutting through the late night hours.

There was no one else in sight, barely any stars in the sky, and the killer was almost glad that was the case. The jacket he had put on last minute could only hide so much, and the sharp turns he was making surely had to be some form of illegal.

Despite taking much lesser than usual to reach Mark’s place, it had felt like he had raced across town to arrive at his destination. His blood ran cold once he saw that the lights were out in most of the rooms of his house, images of Amy desperately trying to fight Unus on her own filling his mind. He was sure she was tough enough to handle him, maybe even tougher than Ethan could ever be, but this- whatever they had created – wasn’t a person, nor did it follow their rules.

He quickly ran to the front door before his anxiety could truly kick in.

The key that his friends had given him came in handy for once, and Ethan pushed it against the hole without thinking much of the late hours. He wanted to throw the door open and run up the stairs, go search for Mark in his bedroom, in his office, the kitchen maybe, but then it came to him.

If Unus was there, and Mark was still alive by chance, his recklessness could be his downfall.

Gulping down the knot of tension tying his throat closed, Ethan slowly pushed the door open, carefully stepping inside.

There were no noises to be heard against the darkness, not even breathing.

The tiny ball of hope in his chest whispered at him that it was because his friends were asleep upstairs, with Chica laying across them to warm their feet, and the thought brought tears to Ethan’s eyes.

If they were dead they could never have another peaceful night like that.

The wooden steps were awfully quiet as he made his way to the second floor. There was no source of light, the moon outside hidden behind the clouds, but Ethan could still see clearly, the lines of the furniture, the corners of the hallways. Maybe he had just mapped out the whole house by accident from coming over so many times.

Mark had the bed knife too. And despite looking like the human version of a German Shepherd, he had shown him once that he knew how to use it, with surprising agility and care.

A sound cut through the silence, making all of his hairs stand on edge.

Over the thumping of his sudden pounding heart, it was hard to tell where it had come from or what it was exactly, but standing right in the middle of the hallway made him an easy target, so Ethan stealthily made his way for Mark’s office.

It was hard to tell if the sliver of light coming from under the door was a product of his imagination or an obvious indicator that his friend, one of the most important people in his life, was well and alive on the other side of that door, simply up late working like it was a bad habit of his.

Just as he was about to reach for the handle, Mark’s desk chair creaked urgently, followed by the noise of bare feet rapidly approaching the door, and Ethan froze in place, cold washing over him as the pounding got closer. Static filled his mind again, much louder and impairing than the first time, and the sensation of icy fingers invaded his senses as a force - _something_ quickly pulled him away from the door.

He saw Mark’s worried face from the uncomfort of the small supply closet next to his office. From the crack that it had been left open, the LED lights his friend liked so much seemed out of place now, blue and red contouring his outline until looking at him didn’t seem real anymore. He was pacing back and forth, a hand running through his already messy hair, and Ethan wanted to get out and hug him, actually make sure he wasn’t a product of his delusioned mind.

From the shadows, right behind Mark, a white suit shined unnaturally amidst the darkness.

If he could scream, he would, but Ethan was sure just the sight of Annus was supposed to mean something. That doesn’t mean the nervous energy wasn’t building inside of him, his mind shutting off as he tried to understand how any of this was possible, but if Annus was here, maybe he was protecting Mark, maybe-

Mark’s warm voice shattered his thoughts, phone pressed against his ear. His hand was running through his hair again, skittish eyes scanning his surroundings as if searching for something. It was reflected all over his face, how he had wanted to throw his phone on the ground when whoever he had called didn’t pick up.

The character that really shouldn’t exist was still just standing there, as if he was looking directly into Ethan’s soul as his friend quickly ran out of sight, the sound of his feet against the carpeted floor feeling off for some reason. Like there was a weird, misplaced echo to them. The killer had wanted to go after him, even if this white demon was staring at him in silence, but then it hit him.

Annus was watching him with regretful pity in his eyes.

It was a sight he never saw coming from Mark, something so rare that Ethan had probably only experienced a handful of times in all of their friendship years; always directed at other people or situations. The static got loud once more.

He tried to fight it then, grabbing handfuls of his hair and panting heavy, as if that would return his hearing, and everything he could still see now was the white against the dark, the unmoving expression of a broken man.

Ethan had ran out of the supply closet before he could really process it, his lungs burning as he desperately tried to find where Mark had gone. There were shadows coming from downstairs, projecting their slimy, translucid forms onto the wooden steps, and only after a while did Ethan realize that there were two of them, anxiously moving around, which meant two things: that Amy was also okay, and that a light had been turned on somewhere.

The third thing he’d only understand once he stepped closer, carefully avoiding the parts of the steps that always cricked painfully when least expected, his mind forgetting about Annus’s existence in favor of listening in to the people talking downstairs.

\- We just have to drive there – Amy rationalized, offering collected choices like she always did.

\- Yea, I know – Mark sighed, sounding more exhausted than usual.

\- You feel guilty, don’t you?

There was an awfully long, misplaced pause, during which Ethan assumed they were just staring at each other. His friends never really fought, since Mark always made sure to leave the room to go cool his head, and Amy generally brushed off most stressful situations easily. The air still felt tense though, like it usually did when two people you know are both getting worked up without noticing their feelings.

\- Yes – Mark finally replied, clearly straining himself. – And I know it’s not the time for that, his fans are freaking out all over Twitter-

\- It’s okay – his girlfriend quickly reassured him, and the shadows got so close to each other they almost merged into a single one. – I’ll drive, okay? And as soon as I stop the car, you can run into Ethan’s place and look for him.

Hearing his own name threw him off on a loop, the on going static quieting down as something shattered in the distance. The first thing he should have thought was that he wasn’t home, he was here, with his parked car outside standing like a sore thumb, so as soon as his friends walked out the front door, they would noticed that he had invaded their privacy.

Instead, he could only think of the blood, the red dripping down the tilled walls of his bathroom.

Unus’s lifeless body on the floor.

They couldn’t find him.

The front door unlocked just as Ethan slipped into the determined, focused mindset he only reserved for gaming. Despite knowing he was capable of being serious when needed, it still felt out of place most times when no one really took you seriously. Good thing they hadn’t noticed him yet.

The killer only caught up with his friends once they were already out the door, Mark’s unruly hair visible in the distance over Amy’s figure running around the house, fetching the car keys.

Cold chilled him to the bones as his eyes desperately searched for the car that wasn’t there.

His anxiety kicked in, possibilities of it having been stolen overruling the remnants of his logical thinking, and by the time he caught himself, the front door had already been clicked shut. Panic truly settled into his nerves, Ethan’s legs quickly bringing him to the bottom of the stairs as his mind fogged up with the infinity of thoughts running through it.

A heavy hand rested on his shoulder.

Knowing that his friends had left the house just a few seconds ago only solidified the fact that he was going crazy, that he had finally lost it, and as he anxiously turned around, Annus’s dark eyes watched him calmly.

\- No need to fret – he spoke up, his voice deeper than Mark’s, more entitled than it probably should be given the circumstances.

Rage boiled in Ethan’s blood, hands curling into fists as he glared at him.

\- Who are you to even tell me what to do?! – the youtuber screamed into the empty house, barely hearing the echo that dangled from his words. – You don’t know about anything!

\- Oh, that’s where you’re wrong – Annus’s finally pulled his hand away, crossing both of his arms behind his back, his relaxed posture contrasting against the turmoil churning up inside of Ethan’s chest. – I know about everything.

The weight of this words awakened up the guilt that the killer had been avoiding since earlier, a sick feeling coating his stomach as he took a step back. He almost admitted it, his tongue heavy with the confession he stopped right on time, and Ethan hoped beyond hope that he didn’t look suspicious as he thought over what he should say.

\- W-What are you talking about?

Yea, that hadn’t been convincing enough. The way Annus’s shoulders dropped as he sighed said as much.

\- I know about Unus’s... misguided trickery. And how you went about stopping it.

The anger that had been put out by the chilling, viscous sensation of regret came back with a vengeance, his eyes burning with hatred as he took a step closer to the demon in white.

\- So what, huh? No one else can see you guys apparently, so maybe I didn’t even kill him!

Annus looked as composed as ever, his righteous posture shining through much more naturally than when Mark pretended to be a good guy walking around in his white suit, a small smudge of confusion tensing up his eyebrows.

\- You didn’t. That’s why I was attempting to calm you down.

The hot fury slipping into his bloodstream ceased all at once, the backlash strong enough to leave Ethan feeling empty. It didn’t look like it, by the way Annus was staring at him, but he had to be lying. He wasn’t proud of it, but he knew what he had done. The way he had wrapped his hands around Unus’s neck, how he had used his strength to choke him for long enough to stop him from fighting back before-

\- I do understand your position but you did not have to kill yourself.

There was a beat of silence before the static overtook his consciousness, his vision blurring until he could barely see Annus. Darkness engulfed him, cold, overwhelmingly so. He wasn’t just panicking, his attacks were never as terrifying as this. Ethan felt trapped inside of his own body, and completely disconnected from it at the same time, something hard and immovable pressing against his back.

He had been in a horrible mental state before, but had never considered- he had never made a plan. He barely even had the energy to move from his bed nowadays so how-

A breath forcefully was pushed into his lungs as Annus rested his hand on his shoulder once more.

Ethan had expected him to talk, had expect any noises really when the static finally quiet down again, but the man in white seemed to be waiting for him to calm down before saying anything. The resemblances he had with Mark brought tears to Ethan’s eyes, the stress and the panic heightening his already sensitive emotions. Annus comforted him the best he could.

He still didn’t understand it, not wanting to believe it after thinking he had killed Unus so brutally like he had done, but as he finally let the tears roll down his cheeks, warm against his soft skin, the world shifted around him, a quiet hiss of the wind brushing past his ears.

Once he had the courage to look up, they magically stood in front of his house, reds and blues flashing against the white exterior walls. There was also an ambulance, a whole sea of people Ethan didn’t recognize surrounding it, and the despair slowly sunk into his stomach as the police brutally broke his front door.

His heart was pounding, red invading his vision as he remembered the state of his bathroom, the body that should be on the floor, and his legs kicked into motion as he slipped through the crowd, running into his house and sprinting to where Mark, Amy and the policeman stood.

He had expected them to hear him coming, even if he wasn’t aware if he had made any noise in the first place, but that idea quickly took the backseat as he saw his friends crying, Amy hiding into Mark’s chest as his fellow youtuber stared inside the bathroom with red streaked eyes, unable to look away.

A sense of dread wrapped his mind in cotton, each step feeling heavier than the last, and by the time the police escorted Mark and Amy away from the scene so they could investigate, Ethan stood alone in his hallway as he watched his own corpse lying on the floor. The mirror had been broken into thousands of shards, the glistening glass decorating his death like he was the moon in the sky, dancing in a sea of stars. Not only had he sliced his wrists open, he had also gone for his throat as well, _somehow_ ; the vivid red still looking fresh against his once clean clothes despite the lack of life in those cold eyes.

It shocked him more the fact that he couldn’t remember doing it, rather than having gone through with it in the first place.

Annus was nowhere in sight.


End file.
